


We'll Check If There's Still Movement

by The_Lame_Goat



Series: Port City Randos [2]
Category: Superpose (Webcomic)
Genre: AU: Man Over Heaven, Body Horror, Gen, Gore, aftermath of medical amputation, arguments in cars, that does not belong to either of them, they're dealing with an amputated arm basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 06:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17038847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lame_Goat/pseuds/The_Lame_Goat
Summary: Raphael knows this is temporary, but that doesn't make the job any easier.





	We'll Check If There's Still Movement

Rafael looked at his watch, had been waiting outside the door (locked, he tried) for nearly half an hour now. Fifteen minutes in he had taken to leaning against the door, another five and he promised himself that he would go back into his truck and sit in the truck bed. It was a somewhat chilly night, and the weave of the jacket he was told to wear didn't quite stop the cold wind from cutting through to his skin, but lying down would at least offer some sort of respite.

The job itself was temporary, _very_ temporary, just him standing in for Manny for the week. And yet the company gave him a jacket anyway, complete with a neatly embroidered name tag. "Padilla", in bright red thread against bright white. There were some thin strips of hazard orange that gave it a bit of extra pop, ringing his upper arms and running along the main zipper. Rafael had no clue what purpose they could serve outside of brand recognition, not that the Service was a brand exactly, about as much as one could call your average country (USA not counting) a brand. 

Either way, the jacket was clearly well made, if not a bit lacking in the actual utility department, and made for him specifically. The facility was either very rich, or very confident they would find another employee in Rafael. His mother had seemed to agree with the former possibility, mentioned it must've been because of that "good Service money" when Rafael pointed it out before leaving. There was something in her voice and gaze on the jacket that had him eager to leave out the door, though not to the job. To someplace in between. That in between lasted the fifteen minute ride to the base's medical facility, and then was replaced by this anxious anticipation, stretching out far past its welcome. 

He hadn't tested into a Service school, hadn't wanted to, was content with the distance from the Service that Port City had given him and was happy to keep it. This was a slip up of fate. A teaser of another road that military recruiters had tried to goad him onto to no avail. He would remain steadfast through this, he assured himself, affixed to the low drum of Port City. Save for this week. One week. 

Rafael felt the door press against him softly, and then with more force, and he moved back a couple of feet just in time to see the door swing open with what he could only assume was more force than the last, the hinges squealing shrilly. The person who pushed it open stood in the doorway, arm still outstretched, peering ahead for a couple of seconds before Rafael cleared his throat, drawing their attention. 

They were dressed in what looked to be some form of hospital scrubs, hands covered in bright orange gloves, the same orange as the strips on Rafael's jacket. Their hair, medium length with bangs plastered against the dark brown of their forehead with sweat, was messily bleached and seemed to almost shine under the fluorescent light. 

"Hey", they said, clearly out of breath. "We've been looking for you! You're supposed to use the front door, not the garage one".  
  
"Oh". Rafael said flatly. No one had bothered to let him know, least of all Manny. 

"It's cool, you'll know for next time, uhhhhhhh", they squinted at his nametag, "Rafael. I'm Baldev, just call me 'Bal' it's easier. I'm kinda new too so they haven't gotten my name pin yet--". They shivered. "Kinda cold out here isn't it? You can follow me, I promise it's at least a little warmer in there." They grinned, a somewhat lopsided gesture that favored their left side. 

Rafael smiled back, and for a fleeting second felt the baring of teeth grow ugly on his lips, a festering mirror of something he must have experienced before. He swallowed hard, squashed the memory, ran a hand up the back of his neck, felt the shorter hairs there, grounded himself. He was ok. This was only for a week. He followed them inside. 

\--- 

The inside of the facility was just as Rafael had been dreading, pristine white with bright lights with high hums, that type of pitch so high it settled as a buzz in the back of your skull after prolonged exposure to it. What little that Manny described of the place had sounded like a hospital, but Rafael was banking on the chance that he wouldn't have to see too much of the inside. 

This was far too much of the inside. 

They passed by multiple surgery rooms, at least one currently up and running as evidenced by the surgeon all but sprinting out the room and down another hallway, nearly bumping into Rafael in the process. The scent of disinfectants held heavy in the air as they passed, and clung to his clothes for a couple of incredibly unpleasant moments. 

The only saving grace was the brisk pace that Bal had set, as if they were eager to escape the hallway as well. They hardly spoke to Rafael outside of telling him that they needed to grab a few things before leaving, instead seemed incredibly focused on the numbers of the rooms, bright orange pointer finger dipping in the air with each room, their lips moving silently along to keep count. 

There was an uneasy rhythm to it all, and Rafael was right on the brink of getting used to it , when Bal took a sharp turn into a room he didn't even register, and came back out with something that looked like a body bag for a small animal. They made a quick turn around Rafael, pointing a finger back down the way they both came. 

"You don't need a coat?" Rafael asked as they took up their quick stride again, something deep in his stomach reeling as he looked at the bag in their arms. 

"Yeah, no. Believe me it's easier just going in my scrubs. Less to fumble with once we get to Disposal." 

Rafael nodded and caught back up with their pace. He wet his lips, and felt the words stumble out of his mouth before he truly registered what he was saying. "What's in there anyway?" 

Bal slowed down a bit, cocking an eyebrow at him. "You don't know? That's kinda part of the job, man." 

Rafael shrugged. It did nothing to ease the feeling now creeping up his spine. "I'm just here for a week. I'm like, substituting." He tipped his head in the bag's direction. "So what's in there?" 

"It's entry level stuff, really. Not _super_ exciting. I've only had the job for a bit so they don't let me fuck with the cool stuff yet. But I mean if you really want to see, I guess it couldn't hurt to give you a lil peek." They unzipped the bag and tilted it towards Rafael. "Have at it." 

Rafael leaned over to look into the bag, and instantly regretted every action leading up to the very moment. "Ah _Jesus_ what the fu--" Rafael spat and turned his head, hand coming up in a half raise to block his view from the contents of the bag. What he saw burned bright in his mind like the afterimage from the flash of a camera, quickly distorted by shock. 

A human forearm, skinned up to the wrist, muscle bared like a cadaver. In those split seconds Rafael thought the muscle was shrinking from view, as if in the process of being steadily eaten by a fungus. As he ran a hand through his hair, blinking hard, he realized it wasn't some mutant lichen. It was skin. 

Bal fumbled with the zipper but had the good sense to turn around to hide the bag behind their body. They looked over their shoulder at Rafael, who had both hands tangled in his hair now, eyes widened in an open glare at the floor before flicking upwards to meet Bal's own sheepish gaze. 

"I thought-- I thought-- I mean you said that shit was entry level!" 

Bal laughed, choppy and artificial, a practiced and empty gesture. "Yeah we get that sorta response a lot". 

Rafael lowered his arms, and shoved his hands into his pockets, balled into fists. "How. How is _an actual human arm_ entry level." 

Bal turned to face him, hefting the bag into both hands with a huff, aware of the way Rafael stared pointedly at the the space just above their head. "Straight up human anatomy is a lot easier to deal with than a lot of the other limbs we amputate. It's sort of like… the basics? Building blocks...original mold...base blueprint. We're more likely to get limbs that somewhat resemble human structures than like…gimme an animal." 

"Tiger", Rafael grumbled. 

"Hey, good one!" Bal said with enough fake enthusiasm to make their voice crack. "Yeah like, I dunno man, there's just something about being able to just look down at your own hand and flex it and recognize how the pieces move together. Much faster than leafing through some medical encyclopedia trying to find the tiger medicula tendon or whatever the fuck, you get me?" They tipped their head towards the garage door down the hall. "Should probably get moving, huh?" 

Rafael swallowed back some bile and stormed ahead through the garage door and into the company vehicle, Bal filing in not too far behind, certainly much too quickly for Rafael to cool down. They at least seemed to have the good sense to stay quiet, sliding into the passenger seat without a word, bag secured in their lap. 

\--- 

Once they reached the highway Bal's patience for silence had seemed to dwindle, and they had reached over to turn on the radio. They switched between stations at seemingly random intervals, before stopping on a news station.Rafael could filter out the drone of the newscasters no problem, the dark stretch of road, dotted by streetlights, got hypnotic after a while. 

So it surprised Rafael when he was the one who decided to break their mutual silence. "It was healing." 

"Wha?" From the slurring in their voice and the sluggish bobbing of their head to some unknown beat it was clear that Bal was on their way to falling asleep. 

"The skin on the arm was growing back." 

Bal's whole body snapped into an upright and alert position so suddenly that Rafael flinched along with them. They stared blankly at him, mouth slightly agape, as if whatever energy had seized their body was taking its time to reach their jaw. "You're talking about the arm. That's in this bag. In _my_ arms?" 

Rafael nodded, a stiff jerk up and down of his chin. "That's what they do, isn't it? Angels regenerate and shit". 

Bal muttered something so sibilant and quick it sounded like a hex and then all but tore the bag open. 

Rafael tensed at the sound of the zipper and took a deep breath through his nose, forcing his eyes not to stray from the road, its dark black stretching like some light-speckled maw . "What. Are. You. Doing?" 

Bal, with a shaky and unsteady hand, felt within the bag, then pulled back sharply as if stung. "Oh fuck", they said, voice hitching higher. "You aren't kidding." 

"Noooo, I'm not kidding, I wouldn't kid about a freakish zombie hand, now you gotta tell me that's normal." Rafael squinted into the darkness for any errant signs of headlights, and finding none, risked a peek at Bal, and nearly lost his shit (and control of the vehicle) right there and then. 

Bal was crawling to the middle seat. 

Their seat belt still clung halfway to their body as they twisted around, one hand gripped tightly to the bag while the other clawed for purchase to drag themself forwards. 

Rafael snapped his gaze back to the road with all the power he could muster. "What are you doing!" 

"My knife is back here!" 

" _Why do you need a knife?_ " Rafael shouted. 

" _To kill the arm again! Why the_ fuck _else would I need a knife?"_ Bal screamed back. 

Rafael's heart felt like it flipped up into his throat. "You can't--you can't just beat it to death or something?" 

Bal undid their seatbelt to increase their reach and all but lunged into the middle seat, coming back with a small pouch in their hand. Rafael watched out of the corner of his eye as Bal worked with a startling sort of coordination and speed to draw out a peculiar looking knife and load something into its base with one hand, while unzipping the bag with their other. 

"What the hell kind of knife is tha--", the sentence got halfway out of Raphael's mouth before Bal plunged the knife into the bag, pressing a button as they did so. He registered the flesh of the arm bulging out of the bag for a split second. 

And then it exploded. 

Despite Bal's attempts to hold the bag shut with their free hand blood and what Raphael could only imagine were bits of bone flecked the interior of the windshield and the roof of the car. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth and let it out in a yell. Bal, shaking slightly, joined him with their own shrieks, still clutching their knife, front splattered with gore. 

\--- 

The two of them sat in the vehicle in the parking lot of the disposal facility. It had taken twenty minutes for Rafael to loosen his grip on the steering wheel, and Bal had not yet released their knife. 

"I'll have to go in at some point", Bal croaked. 

"Yeah?" Rafael said, and found his voice just a hoarse. 

"This stuff happens", Bal said. "They prepare for it. I just--I just never had to. I mean. You know. I've never killed a hand before." They undid their seatbelt and opened the door, fingers slipping on handle for a few seconds. Rafael couldn't tell if it was because of their shaky hands or the blood that coated them. They looked to him, and with their back against the lights of the facility, their face was unreadable, cloaked in darkness. "They'll drive you home, probably". 

"I'll see you tomorrow." It wasn't what Raphael wanted to say, the words tumbled from his lips as if automated, and Bal seemed equally surprised to hear them, stopping in their tracks. 

"Yeah, see ya." 

The car door slammed on their way out, and Rafael leaned back in the seat, yearned for a truck bed to lie in. 


End file.
